Skip to main content

roadlovetrip

arriving on Easter Friday at the airport in BCN to pick up our rental car, the stupid woman behind the counter (who hates her job with a passion) told us there was no car for us.
we looked at each other. then we looked at Xucla. she had nothing in particular to say. 
AVIS turned out to have a super cheap amazing deal including mileage bla bla. 
off we went. south towards Valencia, then inland, towards Albacete. Xucla, the most hugged-at-night-dog in the world, was not welcome in any hotel or guesthouse. it was freezing cold as we were in some mountain-area. we took the excruciatingly difficult decision of letting her sleep in the car. the whole night. alone. with two blankets, the window a little open, and the doors unlocked. all three of us slept well. no drama. i had a bath in the green bathtub and i watched TV. i did yoga in the morning while the two sleepies slept. 


i really like how he drives. he is a great driver. i hate that he smokes, though. he is a terrible smoker. he pisses me off when he smokes in the car. but he drives really good. i mean, really good. 
then he wanted to take a break. i didn't. but we had to compromise. we were kind of on a compromising trip. negotiating. discussing. 
we found this river where he slept. i tried to get Xucla to go and discover the new, exciting surroundings. but she is a coward. maybe because we hug her all night. 
We discussed things and then we were silent. i like silence. it's like the time when you can feel the other person's intention, meaning, and love. to me, talk is cheap. but i'm swedish. we are famous for not talking too much. he is israeli. they talk a lot. they talk for fun, and they talk for business, and they talk for money, and they talk for nothing. all this talk. i get tired of all the words. he likes to talk. and he likes to break rules. i follow rules. i can't help it. he is disorganized and messy. i am  organized and i have a cleaning-addiction. 



i wanted to go to Cadiz. Cadiz was the goal for the loveroadtrip. it was something like 1200 kilometres to get there. we had to keep filling the tank for the supercheapamazing deal from AVIS. the cheap car drank a lot of petrol. it was a petroholic. we spent too much money. 
but we got to Cadiz on a sunny afternoon. just before sunset, we arrived at our goal. we had decided at the beginning of the trip, to stick to the goal. 


 after a very short time in Cadiz, i became like a woman with PMS. i was in a terrible mood. i was grumpy and tired and i wanted to eat and sleep. somewhere warm and cozy. 
but he didn't want to think about that. he loved Cadiz. he was so happy to be there. he was on a photo-mission and was happy as a child. free, and happy. and Xucla, too. just me. grumpy. in a bad mood. he resisted getting pissed off at me, for many hours. until he did. and then i felt bad. it's like a constant balance, when there's two. if one feels bad, the other one brings up the good. if one is weak, the other is strong. 
we slept in his africa-tent, on the beach just outside of Cadiz, that night. we were huddled up into a little ball, all three of us, freezing cold. we woke up stiff and with puffy eyes. but not Xucla, of course. she woke up and started running, all across that white, blue, and windy beach. 



 by the end of that day, we were laughing. at ourselves, mostly, for holding on to our own stupid and stiff ideas of what we are. as if compromise would equal weakness, we were both fighting with a shield over our ego-heads. this and that, stupid nothings, became laughter and jokes. thank god. it's such a pleasure to stop taking oneself too seriously. 
but i do hate that he smokes. seriously. but i'm sure he hates that i am a cleaning-freak. 


 
 we stopped to look at the african continent, where he has just been travelling for two months. we then went to Gibraltar and had a lot of fun. i followed the rules, and he broke them. he made a mess, and i cleaned it. he tried to park the car in a bad spot, i convinced him not to. Xucla liked the monkeys very much. 
he said i am a very good co-pilot. with good sense of direction, good map-reading-skills and good at seeing the necessary things on the way. like Burger King. (no...sorry...that was him..)


the last stop was Cabo de Gata. one of my favorite places in the world. we went to a camping. i broke a rule. he organized the tent really well. we compromised and learnt a little from each other. 
i guess that's what it's all about. state what you cannot live with. accept the things that are a pain in the ass, if the love is stronger than irritation. and find a way to compromise. (go smoke in the designated smoke area, and stop FUCKING cleaning!!!)


but we decided to stick to the goal.
make a plan, and go for it. 
whatever happens. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Linda meets a "real" sadhu on the banks of the Ganges

So it's early morning, before sunrise, in Varanasi. i'm staying at the Yogi lodge in goudalia, the old, smelly, labyrinth of Varanasi old city. my travel companion, Katja, is sleeping sweetly on her thin, stained mattress, bundled up with a trillion dusty blankets.
i'm hunting for a real Aghori baba.
I did my dissertation at uni about the Pashupatas- the really nasty, crazy renunciates, who follow Shiva. they eat dead flesh, they live at the burial grounds, they smear their bodies with ashes from the funeral pyre. they drink water from a human skull, and they behave in different funny, weird ways, to be like Shiva. they scare people and they give respect.
apparently, these sadhus only exist today in Nepal, in the Pasupatinath.
but, I had read and heard, that another, related tribe of sadhus, called "Aghoris", still could be found in Varanasi, close to the burning ghat, where human bodies were burning day and night.

So I was walking, early that morning, toward…

the "fake" aghori baba turns out to be "real"

ok. I wrote this blog a few years ago. the moment was one of December 2008- so a while back.
I was up early, sunrise, just me and the monkeys and the pilgrims and the babas and the chai-wallas...and i guess yeah, it's normal to be up at sunrise in Varanasi, despite the fog, despite the cold- or maybe precisely BECAUSE of these things. No point staying in bed. The monkeys wake us up anyway and it's goddamn freezing, so let's get a warm, energizing chai, and let's pray that we get out of this suffering called life- where it's cold, foggy, and the annoying monkeys steal our bananas.



So I was on the lookout for this type of dude. I had written my dissertation at uni (SOAS, amazing SOAS!) about these kind of babas, admittedly not existent anymore in India, but in Nepal, in the Pashupatinath, yes. I had been told by my Hinduism professor that yes, some of them did still exist in Benares, eating dead flesh, and doing their weird laughing. I love it! How weird and creepy…

getting drunk on absinthe in Bar Marsella

Absinthe
Also called the Green Fairy, from the French- La Fee Verte. Others called it the Green Goddess or the Green Muse.
But the Green Fairy isn't just another name for absinthe; it is a methaphor for artistic transformation and enlightenment. It opens up the mind to a freer state, a place where exploration of poetical pathways and new inspirational ideas can grow wildly. To the Parisian bohemians of late the 1800's, the Green Fairy was a guide into their artistic world, where new, groundbreaking art was created. Absinthe was to the artists of the time what smoking weed was for the hippies in the 60's; their "revolutionairy guide" and what they believed was the substance that "opened their minds".
Artists, poets and writers reached for a glass of the Green Fairy for inspiration to their creative works and during "the green hour", in the late afternoon, many glasses were consumed in Parisian bars and cafes- but not just that, apparently, s…

I finally went on that life-changing trip

I first came to Puglia in 2008, I think it must have been early October. I'd had an awesome time in Tuscany and Rome and Calabria and was arriving there by train, filled to the max with beautiful experiences and electric connections, not really expecting much else than just a half-boring yoga teacher training that I had signed up for, not really knowing what else to do with my life after finishing my degree in Indian Philosophy at SOAS, University of London. 

As the train cut through Basilicata and into Puglia, the amount of olive trees that swooshed past started to be shocking. After a while, I realised that it just wasn't going to end. Endless amount of them, large, proud, thick. Planted in perfect rows, with no sigh of the end, or the horizon. 

My eyes widened as I started to think I was hallucinating. Was I going insane?
It went on for hours. Endless olive trees. I felt as if there was a movie on repeat outside of the train window. 

As the train finally stopped in Bari, I wait…